


The Slowing of Time

by Tangerine



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Getting Together, Love, Mission Fic, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-15 21:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: Stranded with Tilly on a seemingly harmless planet, Michael sorts through a variety of feelings.





	The Slowing of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Damkianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damkianna/gifts).



"You and Ensign Tilly are to report to the transporter room," Saru says with an air of command, making it clear that Michael is to accept, with no questions asked. Michael keeps her expression devoid of emotion, but Saru must see something in it anyway. He sighs, a sound Michael is extremely familiar with. "You have been assigned to an away mission, Commander. The arrangements have been made."

"I see."

"This isn't a punishment," Saru says.

"I didn't assume it was," Michael replies, but it feels surprisingly close to a lie. She has things to do. Important things, and the idea of being away from them is ... uncomfortable. She would rather stay aboard Discovery and spend her time doing her work, by herself, but this is clearly not negotiable. She believes in the United Federation of Planets more than she ever has before. Daily, she's inspired. It's just everything else in her life that's a mess, but work gives her a deep, powerful sense of purpose. 

Saru nods. "I look forward to seeing your report when you return. This is a very interesting planet."

Michael doesn't need to be telepathic to know Saru is lying. Still, after visiting her quarters to gather a few articles of clothing, she reports to the transporter room, where Tilly is already there, chatting with the ensign on duty, drawing easy laughter. For a moment, she allows herself the feeling of envy, then quickly pushes it aside. She _likes_ Tilly. If it has to be anybody, she's glad that it's her. And yet ...

Tilly finally notices her there and smiles, lifting her hand, waving, the ensign forgotten. 

Michael waves back before she can stop herself, and Tilly's entire face lights up.

And yet ... if it could have been anyone else, Michael would have almost preferred it. 

The last few months have left Michael feeling emotionally drained. She needs time to recover. 

She's not sure this is the solution. 

~~

"What is this mission really about?" Michael asks, after a solid day of taking readings and gathering samples, dragging their equipment from one site to the next through the greenest, lushest foliage she has ever laid eyes on. So completely different from Vulcan, but not entirely different from Earth. 

Tilly laughs lightly, plucking the head off a flower and putting it into a jar. After a day of sunlight, her cheeks have lightly pinked. Michael assumes she has neglected proper care of her skin. "I was wondering when you would ask. I think this is someone's attempt at forced leave without, you know, being obvious about it. It's been a tense few months, and with you ... being you ..."

Tilly flutters her hand through the air, as if it describes anything of value, and Michael frowns. "I informed Commander Saru that I didn't require any leave time. I have things I need to do ..."

"See," Tilly says wisely, twisting the cap off her canteen of water and drinking from it deeply before offering it to Michael, who declines with a short shake of her head. _She really should at least cover her head_ , Michael thinks. The sun is unrelenting. "You're just proving his point. You should enjoy this."

"I don't need a _vacation_." It comes out embarrassingly petulant, something she hasn't been since she was a very young child, but Tilly either doesn't notice or just outright ignores her, because there's no reaction from her at all, just that continued serene expression. "And why didn't you bring a hat?" 

"It's four days," Tilly says dismissively, standing up and brushing the dirt from her knees. "The entire crew needs a break, especially you. I took intro to psychology at the Academy. Trust me." She leans into Michael, bumping her with her shoulder, and Michael stares back, startled. "This will be fun."

Michael frowns again. 

"And I'm not wearing a hat because I love the sun on my face," Tilly adds, squinting up at it, smiling. 

Michael looks away.

~~

That first night, in the tent with Tilly snoring beside her, Michael can't sleep. Her brain is exhausted, but a million thoughts rattle around in her head. After an hour of restlessness, she goes outside, into the blissfully cool air. She stares at the stars for a while, arms crossed, fingers dug deep into her skin. 

This is such a flimsy excuse for a mission. This planet is almost identical to Earth, in all the ways she's seen so far, and she keeps thinking about all the simulations she needs to run, all the results she need to pour over. Responding to the distress call from the Enterprise feels like months ago instead of weeks, and she pushes that thought straight out of her head. The less she dwells on _that_ encounter, the better.

With a sigh, she sits down on the cool, lush grass and immediately begins her meditation. It's like muscle memory at this point, and she quickly feels the calm sweep over her emotions, settling them. 

If only this planet was more like Vulcan, she thinks she would feel better. 

~~

The next day, they stumbled into a nest of ... something. It's mammalian, clearly, and very angry, with fur puffed out, forelegs dug into the soft dirt, back arched. It's also accompanied by a litter of equally irate babies, who attacked in a flurry of screeching and the foulest smelling aroma Michael's ever had the misfortune of taking into her nose. Tilly just laughs and laughs as they run away. It's absurd and ridiculous, and Michael finds herself laughing along, because they're just so small and fluffy and _angry_.

"They had so many eyes," Tilly gasps once they've reached the safety of their camp, dropping her pack onto the grass and collapsing beside it, heaving with breath, grinning. Michael settles down beside her, watching how her chest lifts and falls and how her hair spills around her head, red against green.

"Does that count as first contact?" Michael asks dryly, knowing the joke is terrible, but also knowing that Tilly will like it anyway. Even expecting the response, Michael is surprised by how pleased she is with herself when Tilly laughs again. Some of the stress Michael's been carrying around finally eases. 

"Who knew all I needed was a swarm of enraged rodents for you to finally relax and enjoy yourself?"

"I'm enjoying this," Michael says quickly. 

Tilly makes a face, the kind she makes when she's being too polite to call people on their bullshit. 

"I am," Michael insists, drawing her knee up to her chest, wrapping her arms around it. "I'm not used to my life being this calm. Not anymore. After everything, all the mistakes that I made, I feel" – she glances over at Tilly, who looks back, expression serene and encouraging – "afraid to slow down. Like if I do, if I'm not distracted, I'll have to really think about ... what happened with Geor ... with _Philippa_." 

"Which one?"

"Both of them," Michael replies with a shrug, and Tilly touches her hand, briefly, before pulling back. _What a strange place we're stuck in_ , Michael thinks, and not for the first time. "I don't know. I'm not sure my brain even knows the difference. I know the Emperor is a terrible human being, but ..."

Tilly touches her again, a little longer this time, the pads of her fingers soft. "I understand."

Michael looks up at the sun, closes her eyes and feels the warmth on her face. "One of us should," she agrees, and they sit there for a long time together, silent but comfortable. After a while, Tilly sits up. _There's still work to be done_ , Michael thinks, opening her eyes, and eventually rises to follow her. 

~~

The work is familiar, even if it's not the most exciting. It's like she's fresh from the Academy again, in her first post as a science officer, before her world shifted so dramatically. Then, she was only stuck between Human and Vulcan, but she'd taken pleasure in doing her job and doing it well. Even now, a lifetime later, she's careful and meticulous with each sample she gathers, with each reading she takes. 

Tilly's found some sort of metal alloy, folded into the bedrock, and she's delighted by it. 

"Oh, this is so interesting," she mumbles to herself, and Michael honestly has no idea which one of them she's speaking to, but she seems happy. She pauses from time to time to re-hydrate, to stare at something, once to take her hair down, scrubbing her fingers through it, before tying it into a knot atop her head. The temperature is hot and humid, and while Michael is used to heat, the dampness is almost stifling. It settles into her hair and the fabric of her uniform, and she eventually removes the upper-half. With her arms bare and the thin fabric of her undershirt allowing a breeze, the relief is immediate. 

"Jeez, finally," Tilly exhales, red in the face, shiny with sweat, and begins to strip down. 

"Were you _waiting_ for me?"

"You outrank me now," Tilly protests with a laugh. "We're on official Starfleet business here." 

"How long did we share a room?" Michael asks.

"But you were Michael Burnham, infamous mutineer back then," Tilly says, voice teasing, and Michael appreciates that she never shies away from the past, just acknowledges it and moves forward like nothing else matters. It's an admirable skill. "Oh, _I've_ seen a Commander in her underwear."

Michael refuses to acknowledge that comment, explaining away the sudden flush on her face as too much sun exposure. 

~~ 

That night, after a dinner over an open fire, Michael falls asleep easily, even before Tilly starts snoring, but she wakes with a snap to a boom of thunder, followed quickly by a flash of light. Tilly sits up, still half asleep, dragging a hand over her face. "Please tell me that's a storm and not, like, an invasion."

"It's a storm," Michael assures her, crawling over to unzip the tent and stick her head out. Another loud roar of thunder, causing her to flinch instinctively, then a shock of lightning that cuts the sky, as red as human blood, but there's no sign of rain, not yet, but the wind cuts like a blade across her skin. Like good Starfleet personnel, they've anchored their supplies to the ground, but the tent ... it won't take this.

Tilly comes up beside her, hair loose around her shoulders, in only her grey undershirt and a matching pair of underwear. "I don't have a good feeling about this," she says, glancing up at the crimson sky. 

"We need to find shelter," Michael says, and when Tilly doesn't move, adds, " _now_ , Ensign."

That snaps Tilly out of whatever emotion she's struggling with. Quickly, they each dress in their uniforms before grabbing their packs, which both include a change of clothes, a thermal blanket, a limited supply of water and rations and a med kit, all standard Starfleet issue. Michael grabs the case that holds their samples while Tilly starts scanning with a tricorder. The rest of the tent is left as is. 

Outside, the air tastes weirdly metallic, and the bright red sky darkens to an almost black. _So not entirely like Earth_ , Michael thinks. Tilly is intensely focussed on the readings, but she makes a noise that Michael interprets as _follow me_ and immediately falls into a line behind her. They had been taking the mission seriously, to a point, but the planet had seemed harmless. _A cadet's mistake_ , Michael thinks. 

But to err is human, or so she's been told anyway. 

~~

She's half a metre from the cave, Tilly already inside, when the rain starts. Back to back, thunder blending into lightning, and then the ominous sky just opens up. The smell hits first, beyond foul, followed by the rain, almost horizontal due to the wind, and then, finally, there's blinding, fiery pain.

Michael hisses sharply, cradling her arm to her chest, as Tilly yanks her into cover. 

"What the _heck_ ," Tilly says, leading Michael further into the cave and sitting her down on a rock. She kneels down and gently pulls Michael's arm away from her body. The fabric of her uniform has melted away, the edges singed black, and the skin on her forearm is raw and bloody. _Red blood_ , Michael thinks, in a daze, not green, and even though she knows – she's always known – it always surprises her.

She hisses again when Tilly shifts her arm slightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to be gentle," Tilly says softly, looking up at her, and Michael nods, because she knows that, too, "but this is a nasty wound. Like, seriously disgusting. No offence to you, of course."

"None taken," Michael assures her with a huff, wiping her uninjured arm across her face, skin slick with sweat, "but if you could hurry up with the dermal regenerator, I would appreciate it, Tilly."

"Yes, yes, I'm getting there,"Tilly says with a warm laugh, digging into the med kit and retrieving the regenerator. She turns it on, and the relief is instantaneous. Michael sighs deeply, and Tilly echoes the noise with a contended hum. When she's done, she runs a thumb over Michael's newly healed skin. 

Michael doesn't shiver, but it's a close thing. _Too close_ , she thinks, but she leans into Tilly anyway. 

"Thank you," Michael says, and Tilly smiles brightly. 

"You're welcome," she replies.

~~

The storm continues through the night, violent, howling. Michael dozes lightly, shoulder to shoulder with Tilly, but Tilly remains a rigid pillar of tension beside her. Eventually, in one of her moments of lucidity, Michael offers her hand, and Tilly takes it, weaving their fingers together, squeezing tight. 

"You must think I'm ridiculous," Tilly says, her voice uneven, her expression watery, "a grown woman afraid of storms. I'm an Ensign in Starfleet, for Pete's sake, but I just ... I don't like them. I never have. I grew up in a place that had these, like, crazy storms, and I always ended up in bed with my parents."

"Feelings aren't always logical," Michael replies. 

Tilly huffs a little, close enough to a laugh that Michael thinks she said the right thing. "And for the record, this is, like, my worst case scenario storm nightmare coming true. I thought those multi-eyed rodents were bad, but that's before I found out about the killer rain. Like, what the heck? Seriously."

"This is why fake missions are always a bad idea."

"This is my first one," Tilly admits, absently sweeping her thumb back and forth over Michael's. It feels ... it feels exquisitely lovely. "I've never been, you know, important enough for one. I just hope nobody feels bad about this. I mean, other than all the awful stuff, I've actually had a really good time so far."

"Serves Saru right," Michael says. 

Tilly smiles. "It could have been the Captain who suggested it."

"Doubtful," Michael replies.

It's only later, with Tilly leaning against her, head on her shoulder, eyes closed, that Michael thinks to say, "I'm having a good time, too." Despite being almost asleep, Tilly looks up at her, smiling, and nods. Eventually, she settles back down, inevitably drifting into a snore, and Michael finally relaxes.

~~ 

When Michael wakes again, she's sure it must be morning, but the sky is still blood red, and while the storm has eased slightly, it's still heavily raining, the wind twisting through the caverns with a howl. Carefully disentangling herself from Tilly, Michael stands up and walks to the edge of the cave. 

They still have two more days of this planet, this full third day and most of tomorrow, with extraction scheduled for roughly eighteen-hundred. Michael can't imagine Discovery is just waiting in orbit for them, though she had admittedly not even checked with her communicator. This is, by far, not the worst situation Michael has ever been in, but if it's purpose was rest and relaxation, it's failing miserably. 

It's not all bad, of course, but ...

Reflexively, she glances at Tilly, still snoring away, her expression less peaceful than it had been.

She'll try the communicator later, she decides, returning to Tilly's side. Possibly, if she has to. 

~~

With the pretense of the mission completely obliterated and nothing to do but wait this storm out, Tilly does what Tilly does best and fills the silence with primarily one-sided conversation. Michael doesn't mind. She finds this sort of balance between them comfortable, and she does actually listen to everything Tilly says. Currently, she's hypothesizing how the minerals on this planet might benefit the spore drive or any number of ongoing experiments. Michael makes all the right noises at all the right times.

"Stop me if I'm boring you," Tilly says midday as Michael sits by the entrance and watches the rain.

"You're not," Michael assures her and, when Tilly snorts, glances over at her and smiles. "Really."

Tilly gives her a look, but it's fond. "Are you sure you should be sitting so close to that stuff?"

"The wind's blowing away from us," Michael replies with a shrug, shifting a little, making it clear company would be appreciated, and Tilly seems to understand what she's attempting to do and approaches, expression doubtful. "And this sky is really quite remarkable. I've never seen anything like it."

"This is the sort of stuff I expected when I joined Starfleet," Tilly admits, sitting down beside Michael and immediately taking Michael's hand when it's offered. "Not all the war and death, but all the new things to discover, all the new brains to explore theories with. I know it's naive, but that's the stuff I love."

"It's optimistic," Michael reminds her. 

Tilly smiles softly. "Sometimes it feels like the same thing."

"It isn't," Michael says and knows it's the truth. 

~~

The storm picks up again, wild and terrifying, and Michael ushers Tilly deeper into the cave. They've settled mainly in the entrance, but it spirals deeply into darkness, and it's worth exploring, especially when trapped on a planet and emotionally exhausted. Despite her obvious trepidation, Tilly dutifully follows Michael into the cavern. Michael carries their light source and leaves the scanning to Tilly. 

"How are you doing?" Tilly asks. without warning, as they carefully wind their way down a narrow, slippery path. The smell in the air has changed, and it's cooler the deeper they go, with a faint taste of salt. "I mean, this fake mission is mostly for your benefit. I'm basically just here for friend support."

"I'm fine," Michael says absently. "I've been worse."

Tilly laughs quietly then slips a little and flails until Michael steadies her, a firm hand on her back. "Thanks. And that's really ... I mean, I'm not sure that's how you should be measuring things. It's okay to be sad or angry or whatever you want to be. You can feel good things, too. If that's what you want."

"I know that," Michael says. "I don't know what I want. Except maybe I wish I could turn it all off."

"How very Vulcan of you," Tilly says amiably. "If you want to talk about it, we have the time."

"You've already listened so much."

"That's what friends do," Tilly replies. "I feel like neither of us have had as much practice with that as we should have, but we're working on it. I mean, this is better done over drinks, a good meal and something comfy to sit on, but I guess clean water, emergency rations and slimy rocks work, too."

At the bottom of a path is a pool of still water. "We could dip our feet in there," Michael suggests. 

"No freaking way," Tilly replies with a laugh. "At least not until I've scanned for life signs."

As Michael removes her boots, Tilly scans the water three times just to be sure, but it's just water, nothing lurking beneath the surface. Sitting down, Michael sighs at the sensation, eyes closed. She opens them briefly when Tilly settles beside her then relaxes again. After a while, she begins to speak. 

~~

"You loved her," Tilly says gently after Michael forces it all out, all the feelings Tilly already knows about and some of the feelings she doesn't. "Georgiou. The one from here, I mean, not the scary one."

"I did," Michael says after a long pause. "I still do. She was important to me." 

"Oh, I totally get it. I fall in love with everyone I work with," Tilly confesses, easy and light, like it's not the hardest thing in the universe to admit to. She leans into Michael slightly but doesn't touch her, which Michael deeply appreciates. "I just can't help it. You know when you're really into something and your conversations last for hours and everything you're struggling with just reveals itself eventually, through brainstorming and experience and it's so ..." Tilly hugs herself tightly, practically shivering with this thought, and Michael stares at her like she is a brand new species. "It's just _nice_."

"Everyone?" Michael asks, finally, unable to keep the bewilderment from her voice.

"Inevitably, yeah. When Lieutenant Commander Stamets starts talking about the spore drive ... oh boy."

She sighs deeply, visibly contented, and Michael continues to stare at her, completely unable to pull her gaze from the way Tilly smiles, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed. It just seems so easy when she does it. 

"I mean, it's not a sexual love. Obviously. Or a romantic one, even one-sided, but ... oh, I just can't stop myself. Is that weird? It's probably weird," Tilly decides, thankfully relieving Michael of any obligation to reply. She has no idea what she would say, because this whole idea is just ... beyond her logic to grasp. "But what's the alternative? Never love anybody? No, thanks. That's just not for me at all."

Tilly looks at her, finally expecting a response, and Michael hesitates. 

The idea makes sense, to a point, when approached logically. Before meeting Tilly, Michael had never met anyone who loved so easily and so freely, but even from their first meeting, Tilly had been different. For obvious reasons, of course, but she had also been Michael's first friend on Discovery during a time when making those first overtures of friendship could have turned out very poorly for her.

During everything that followed, Tilly has remained with her, steadfast and loyal. 

"You sound like my father when you speak like that," Michael says eventually.

"That's such a compliment, thank you," Tilly says like it's the nicest thing Michael's ever said to her.

~~

 _Do you love me?_ Michael should ask then but doesn't. It sounds pitiful in her head, and there's some part of her that doesn't want to know. After Philippa – both of them – and after Ash, she feels raw, like her mind can't handle the knowledge of yet another person thinking about her with any type of love. 

_Stop being illogical_ , Michael tells herself sternly, taking a deep breath and holding it in her chest.

"I hope you don't stop loving people," Tilly says after allowing Michael time to recover emotionally.

"I wish I could stop," Michael admits. "I sometimes wish I was more ... that I was less human."

Tilly makes a pained expression, and when she speaks again, the longing in her voice is almost shocking. "But what a waste that would be, Michael. I mean, love is terrifying, but it's exhilarating too, isn't it?" She leans her head on Michael's shoulder, looking up at her with wide eyes, and Michael nods slightly. 

_I love you_ , Michael thinks, testing. It doesn't feel impossible. 

~~

Eventually, they head back to the entrance and eat a quiet meal. Time feels like it has slowed to a crawl, as it sometimes does aboard a starship with no sun to dictate where one day ends and the next begins. Three days feels like this could be the next three years of Michael's life, if the Discovery never comes back, if this storm never ends, if this is her new life. She understands why Tilly likes the sun so much. 

Michael watches as Tilly brushes out her hair, distracting herself from the unending storm. She wonders, should she offer to do it for her? Tilly enjoys physical contact, is clearly comforted by it. But it seems intimate, _loving_ , and Michael, while she feels steadier, is still not sure if she can do this again.

Or if Tilly is even with Michael on this. It's easy to mistake kindness for other things. 

Too Vulcan at times for other humans, but not Vulcan enough to understand people the way she wants.

Something her father said to her rattles around in her head. _There is no telling what any one of us may do where the heart is concerned_. The context now is different, the situation totally incomparable, but she remembers how the words made her feel and who she turned to immediately in the aftermath. 

"Do you want me to do that for you, Sylvia?" Michael asks, decided. 

Tilly's whole face lights up, blinding and bright. "That's such a sweet offer. I'd love that. Thank you."

Michael nods and settles behind her, taking the brush, running her fingers through the copper strands. It is intimate and loving, like Michael expected it would be, and Tilly makes happy, warm noises, deep in her throat. Outside, the storm rumbles on. Inside, Michael sees how Tilly relaxes, and it pleases her. 

~~ 

It seems ridiculous to keep her distance after that, so when it's time to sleep, Michael lays an arm across Tilly's waist, sharing warmth, offering comfort. The thunder and lightning has picked up again, and Tilly flinches with every boom and flash, but Michael just soothes her with soft touches and softer murmurs. Between the lightning and the lamp Michael keeps on, it makes it easy to keep her gaze on Tilly's face. 

"Do you have to report this?" Tilly asks quietly after a while, one hand clutching Michael's forearm.

"No," Michael assures her. "These are unique circumstances. Fake missions get fake reports."

Tilly laughs. "Like I said, this is my first fake mission. I wasn't sure."

"It means we make the rules up as we go along," Michael tells her, smiling, and Tilly smiles back. 

Time stretches out between them, warm and comfortable, and Tilly lifts Michael's hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it, her lips soft. Michael flinches, just a little, and Tilly exhales sharply.

"Oh, gosh," she says, sun-kissed cheeks darkening into a richer, darker colour that spills down her neck and disappears under her collar, "are we not doing this? I'm so sorry. This is basically the story of my life. Someone wants to hold my hand, share their feelings and snuggle, and I read too much into it."

"No," Michael says quickly, "no, we're doing this. If you want to do this."

"Obviously," Tilly replies, and Michael kisses her.

~~ 

Exploratory kisses and under-uniform touches pass the rest of the time until neither of them can resist the pull of sleep any longer. When Michael wakes again, it's morning, and the storm has finally broken. Tilly mumbles sleepily into her ear, half words eventually slipping back into heavy snores. Michael allows herself a few minutes to enjoy this basic physical connection before she carefully gets up. 

_Interesting_ , she thinks, standing at the entrance to the cave. The rain, which had been caustic to humans, has had zero effect on the lush foliage, and the air, which had smelled so rank, is clean and crisp again. A four-legged creature with spiralling horns on its head pauses to look at her, two neat rows of four eyes each blinking back at her, then continues its way through the forest with a casual saunter. 

Not like earth at all, Michael decides. On the surface, close, but underneath, it's something else entirely.

That's not a bad thing. 

When she turns back, Tilly is just waking up, a tangle of red hair around her head as she stretches with a wide yawn. When she sees Michael, her face splits into a wide smile, and Michael smiles back.

Tilly sits up and crosses her legs. "So that happened, huh? You're a good kisser, Michael Burnham."

"So are you, Sylvia Tilly," Michael replies, letting Tilly pulled her down to the ground by the hand.

"I wasn't sleeping very well without you in the room anyway," Tilly admits with a warm laugh, immediately curling around her with a happy sigh, and Michael kisses her again. It finally feels easy.

~~

The rest of the day passes quickly. They return to their camp and pack up. There's no sign of the tent, but everything else seems relatively unscathed, though something definitely got into the food store. As far as vacations go, Michael still isn't willing to admit she needed it, but it feels like it helped. Or maybe everything would have worked out anyway, because Tilly would have been there regardless. 

"I can't wait to have a shower," Tilly says wistfully. "And a real bed. With you in it, of course."

Michael snorts softly, but she looks over at Tilly and smiles warmly. 

"We have to report this to the Captain, don't we? I mean, it's in the rules, but if you don't want to ..."

"I want to," Michael assures her. "And we will. This doesn't end when we get off this planet."

"Infamous mutineer and all, I just wasn't sure," Tilly says easily, and Michael wonders if she'll ever stop appreciating that quality about her. She has the biggest heart in the universe, and Michael's just happy she's found her place inside it. "I also can't wait to get back to the ship and be storm-free for a while."

"Not afraid of ion storms?" 

"Please," Tilly scoffs, sliding an arm over Michael's waist. "I'm a Starfleet Ensign. _That_ I can handle."

Michael presses her face into Tilly's neck and laughs. 

~~

At eighteen-hundred exactly, Michael taps two fingers against her communicator and says, "two to beam up." When they materialize in the transporter room, Michael is happy to be back on Discovery, but she admits to herself, in that secret place she hides, that a few more days might have been nice.

She and Tilly part ways in the hall, and Michael almost makes it back to her quarters without bumping into Saru. It doesn't surprise her to find him hovering outside her door; she had expected to see him waiting in the transporter room. "Commander Burnham," he says when she stops beside him.

"Commander Saru," she replies flatly. 

"I've been informed that the planet was more hostile than we expected. Deepest apologies."

"These things happen," she replies easily, secretly enjoying his blink of surprise, and steps around him to open the door, leaving it open as an invitation to follow. "I'll have the report to you as soon as I can. Ensign Tilly made some interesting discoveries she believes could help improve the spore drive." 

Folding his hands behind his back, Saru bows his head. "That's good to hear."

Unable to tolerate his formality any longer, Michael finally takes pity on him. "I needed the time off. I admit it. Thank you for the concern, but in the future, I choose my own destinations. Same for Tilly."

"I assume that situation worked itself out as well."

Michael sighs deeply. "Do all Kelpiens meddle like this?"

"I believe I am unique in that regard," Saru says with another incline of his head and rightfully picks that moment to take his leave. Michael finishes unpacking in silence, unable to keep the smile off her face. When the door opens again, Tilly stands there, smiling, and time stretches between them, infinite.


End file.
